


Jeremy's First Heist

by Wrespawn



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Blood, Gen, Gun Violence, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Panic Attacks, Protective Geoff Ramsey, Protective Michael Jones, Protective Ryan Haywood, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 09:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18341336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrespawn/pseuds/Wrespawn
Summary: Jeremy’s a part of the Fake AH Crew now.  He’s just as immortal as the rest of them, he’s played plenty of murder games with the crew before, and he’s not scared of dying.  He’s ready for his first heist.  Really, the crew should stop worrying about him.A respawn!verse fic.  Takes place at a nonspecific point in the Game Night universe.Warnings: Gun violence, vividly described pain and injury, emotional trauma, lowkey panic attack.  Lots of comfort.  There’s no sexual content in this story, but there is some non-sexualized nudity.





	Jeremy's First Heist

The air was charged in the meeting room.  There was a strange sort of quiet that came before a heist, a focus that the crew normally lacked.  Jeremy’s foot tapped rapidly on the floor, his hands tense against his legs.  His gaze – and the gaze of every crew member – was locked on Geoff.

There was something different about Geoff, too.  Something that reminded Jeremy why he was the most dangerous crime boss in the city.  His voice was calm, but there was steel in his eyes.

“All right, crew.  One more review of the plan before we suit up.”

Anticipation fluttered in Jeremy’s chest like a trapped beast.  He had been involved in heists before, but always from the safety of HQ.  He’d helped with the planning, the gear, the surveillance, even the dry runs… and then the Crew left him back at base while the action went down.  Now, after seeing the respawn room, he understood why.  The crew that couldn’t die had been afraid of losing their newest member, and never getting him back.

Jeremy’s hand drifted to his neck, finding the pale scar where a computer chip had been slipped under his skin.  The crew didn’t have to worry about him any more.  He could die and come back just like the rest of them now.

The wall behind Geoff was slathered in maps, blueprints, and photos.  Geoff pointed at a blurry picture on the wall of a man in a suit.  

“You guys see this asshole?”

“Yeah.”

“Yep.”

“This fucker’s got more money than taste.”  Geoff’s smile was savage.  “So we’re gonna help him out with that.  First we’re gonna–”

“Geoff!”  Gavin’s hand was raised, waving in worry.  “We’re robbing him ‘cause he’s rich, yeah?  But  _we’re_  rich!”

Michael snorted.  “Gavin Free, everyone, worried about the crew’s moral compass.”

“Moral compass my ass, as a rich person I don’t like the idea of rich people getting robbed!”

Geoff snickered.  “First of all, I’d like to see someone try and rob us.  Second of all, yeah, we’re rich, but we’ve got the high-class taste to match, so it’s okay.”  Geoff paused, glancing around the room.  He heaved a weary sigh.  “…Well, I’ve got enough high-class taste for all of us, let’s leave it at that.”

Jack spread her arms with an offended huff.  “I have class!”

“Me and Jack have enough class for –”

“Jesus, Geoff, are we gonna review the heist or not?”

“Here.”  Geoff’s finger stabbed at the map on the wall.  “Right on the beach there’s a private dock and a warehouse.  That’s about to be the drop point for some real expensive collectables.  As we all know, our friend the rich asshole is an art collector, but as we all know, he doesn’t have the taste to appreciate it.  But we do, right guys?”

“Well,  _you_  do.”  Ryan snickered.  “The rest of us don’t know a Monet from a Manet.”

“We’re gonna do this rough and quick.”  Geoff pressed on as Jack leveled a glare at Ryan.  “Gonna grab the loot as it’s coming off the ship, before they can get it into something armored.  There’s gonna be guards, but that’s not gonna slow us down.”

A prickle of excitement spread through Jeremy’s chest.  He could feel the eager grins all around him.

“We blast our way in, we grab the loot, and we’re in the wind before they can stop us.”  Geoff dragged his finger along the coast.  “Jack?  Beach plane.  Nice sandy runway, nice clean takeoff over the sea.”

“Oooh, picturesque.  This is gonna be such a romantic little heist.”

“Yeah, nice romantic rain of bullets.”  The map crinkled as Geoff’s finger dragged in a circle.  “As far as I know, they don’t have shit in the way of aircraft or surface-to-air weapons, but keep sharp, yeah?  Stay close, but keep the plane safe.”

Jack waved away the thought.  “Psssh.  As if they could shoot me down.”

“Michael, you’re with me.  We’re busting in and grabbing the goods.  I’ll be focused on giving commands and keeping the loot safe, so you’re gonna have to lay down a lot of hurt.”

Michael’s grin spread and he lifted a thumbs-up.  “That’s my favorite job, Kingpin.  I’ve got your back.”

“Ryan, you’re covering our getaway.  Are you okay with being the bullet magnet?”

Jeremy could have sworn that Ryan glanced his way, but by the time he looked, Ryan’s eyes were focused on Geoff.  “Oh, I can do that.  I’m good at looking like the biggest threat in the room.”

“Glad to hear it, you creepy bastard.”  Geoff turned to Jeremy.  “Jeremy, I want you and Gavin to be the hammer to Ryan’s anvil.  Camp out somewhere hidden and take advantage of the free lunch that Ryan’s giving you.  The guards should be looking at him, so they won’t be looking at you when you snipe them.”

Gavin nodded.  “Can do!”

“Gavin, if Ryan goes down, you’re the next anvil.  Go out there and be a fucking maniac, get as many eyes on you as you can.  But until then, stay out of sight.”  Geoff’s gaze snapped back to Jeremy.  “You got that, lil’ J?  This isn’t me trying to give you a cushy job, this is tactics.  The anvil draws attention, the hammers pick people off.”

Jeremy snickered.  “You think I’m gonna go play hero to Ryan’s damsel in distress?”

“What I think is that I saw your eyes light up at the words ‘bullet magnet,’” Geoff shot back.  “You’ll get plenty of action today, you goddamn adrenaline junkie.  Stick to your role.”

“You got it, boss.”

Geoff straightened up, clapping his hands together.  “All right, crew, that’s the heist!  Questions?”

For the second time, Jeremy could have sworn there were glances being thrown his way.  It made his skin prickle, but no one responded to Geoff.

At length, Geoff smiled.  “No questions?  Cool, go grab your gear!  We meet outside HQ in fifteen.”

Chairs scraped as the group stood.  Jeremy practically bounced out of his seat.  A giddy excitement was vibrating in his chest, quickening his heart.  He couldn’t believe he was about to go on his first real heist.

“Hey, Jer.”

Jeremy turned.  Geoff inclined his head slightly.

“Hang back a sec.”

Jeremy stepped back from the door as Gavin slipped past him.  Giving Geoff a perplexed look, he waited for everyone to leave and then closed the door.

Geoff stepped around the desk, leaving the maps and blueprints behind, until he and Jeremy were face to face.

“Be careful out there, yeah?”  There was a soft concern in Geoff’s voice that Jeremy didn’t expect.  “It’s your first time in the deep end.  Things are gonna be a little different.”

Jeremy smiled and thumped his knuckles against Geoff’s chest.  “Don’t worry about it.  What are the bad guys gonna do, kill me?”

Geoff didn’t seem comforted.  “This isn’t going to be like playing Murder.”

A disgruntled scowl was threatening Jeremy’s smile.  “Come on, Geoff.  Are you seriously going all protective on me?  You said you wouldn’t do this.”

“Listen, the first time you’re on the front lines, it’s–”  Geoff cut himself off.  He seemed to think for a while before speaking.  “…It’s different.”

Jeremy sighed.  “Geoff, quit worrying, I’m gonna do fine.”  He spread his arms.  “I’m Jeremy fucking Dooley, I’m not afraid of shit!”

A tired smile spread across Geoff’s face and he let out a huff of surrender.  “All right, all right.  Just… no theatrics, okay?  You’re part of the team, you don’t have to prove anything.”

Jeremy flicked his fingers in a salute.  “You got it, Kingpin.  See you on the other side of the heist.”

—-

There was a sharp wind picking up over the sea.  It whipped over the frothing waves, the docks, the cliffs, and the hail of bullets that thundered around the warehouse.

Jeremy’s heart was racing, wild adrenaline galloping in his chest, but it made him feel alive.  He was crouched on the cliff above the beach, firing down and ducking behind a rock every time a guard turned back his way.  He couldn’t keep a blinding grin off his face as the gunshots hammered around him.  

He didn’t know what Geoff was so worried about.  This felt amazing.

_“This is Wheels, I’ve got some unwanted attention.  Looks like someone down there’s got a rocket launcher.”_

_“Shit, we need that plane safe for getaway.  Golden Boy, find the asshole with the rocket launcher and put ‘em in the ground!”_

_“Can do!”_

_“Rimmy, Vagabond, can you hold your own for a bit?”_

Jeremy leaned over the cliff edge and fired down.  Below, he saw a guard drop, and a heady rush swept through his chest.  

“Ha, no problem.  Me and Vagabond are spitroasting ‘em.”

Ryan chuckled in agreement.   _“Take your time, Golden Boy.”_

_“Aw, man!  Leaving me out of the spitroasting!”_

“Come see us after the heist, Goldie.”  Jeremy aimed and fired, the rifle jolting in his hand.  “We can fix you up.”

_“Cheers, Rimmy!”_

_“Did no one tell Rimmy Tim not to flirt during a heist?”_

_“Why would we tell him that?  It’s not a real heist if we’re not flirting.”_

The gun clicked – out of ammo.  Jeremy hummed to himself as he ducked behind cover and slipped out the empty magazine.

“Don’t worry, lovelies,” he murmured, more to himself than the mic.  He slipped a fresh magazine from his jacket, slotting it in neatly.  “Still got plenty of lead for–”

Pain slammed into his chest.

Dirt and stone crunched under his back, the bright blue sky reeling.  A horrible sick wetness was seeping under his shirt across his skin.  A creeping ache was humming numbly in his chest, but it wasn’t an ache.  

Who…  How…

Jeremy could hear footsteps, jarringly loud in the strange ringing silence.  Someone leaned over him.  Jeremy’s mouth was open, but his breath didn’t seem to be working as he stared up at the man who had shot him.  The sun was too bright, his vision swimming, he couldn’t make out a face.  

The ache in his chest wasn’t an ache.  It was… hot… searing…

Jeremy’s shaking hand fumbled for his gun, groping among the sand and loose rocks.  The grip must have slipped from his hand when the bullet hit his chest.  He needed his gun so he could return fire…

A human sound reached his ringing ears.  A grunt of disgust, maybe the word _asshole_ as the barrel of a gun lifted, pointed at him.  It didn’t bother to aim at his head.  The muzzle flashed as more pain hammered into Jeremy’s chest.  

Pain pain pain, the ache in his chest was  _pain_ , twisting writhing wrenching molten  _pain_.

He wanted to scream, but his lungs wouldn’t work.  The scream was trapped in his chest, tearing up his insides.  The man standing over Jeremy laughed, thumped a boot roughly against his side, and walked away.

“Nnh–”   For the first time, a noise slipped out of Jeremy.  He wasn’t dead yet, why was the man leaving?  He wasn’t  _dead_  yet.  “N-nh…”

_Come back–_

Something resembling breath was attempting to froth through Jeremy’s lungs, but it was wrong.  His entire rib cage wailed with agony, ripped and twisted and shattered, but he wasn’t dead yet.  The footsteps were fading.  Jeremy stared up at the swimming sky as a deep horror crept over him.  He was… being left here to die.  Alone.

It… _hurt_ …

The com was still pressed in his ear, the mic resting by his bloody cheek.  Distantly, Jeremy could hear a voice that sounded like Geoff’s, barking commands over the com.  His fingers twitched, but he couldn’t lift his arm.

He wanted to respond.  

_This is Rimmy Tim, I’m shot._

He couldn’t form the words.

_Guys, I need help._

He couldn’t form the words.

_I need– safeword– please–_

He couldn’t.

The sun had been so bright before, but now everything seemed dark.  Everything in his chest felt wrong.  Wet.  The taste of blood was brighter than the sun had been.  He could still feel the echo of a boot thumping against his side as the slow, choking darkness seeped over him and swallowed him.

He couldn’t hear the com.  The world went silent.

—-

Jeremy lurched awake, sucking down too much air too quickly, his body already in a cold sweat in the respawn pod.  He sat up with his stomach heaving.

The soft hum of the room and the plastic cushioning under his naked body were all familiar, but something wasn’t right.  The screen in the corner of the room was dark.  There were no voices, no company.  Jeremy’s lungs felt wrong.  His hand gripped at his chest, fingers digging in where the bullets were supposed to be.  He wasn’t so sure that the pod had really healed him this time.  It felt wrong.

It was too quiet without the familiar chatter.  No one to tell him that it was okay, that there was no malice behind the pain.  Jeremy’s fingers pressed harder into his chest, his breath growing less even.  …Because there _had_ been malice behind the pain, hadn’t there?  Harsh scornful laughter, a boot thumping against his side, no offers to make it quick.  To do it right.

The man who had killed him didn’t care if he was doing it right.

Jeremy pressed a cold, shaking hand over his mouth.  He… he might be about to throw up in his respawn pod.  God, Jack was gonna kill him.

The soft hiss of an activating pod made Jeremy flinch.  He huddled in his pod as another slid out of the wall several feet away.  It took a moment for him to realize what this meant.

Someone else had been shot down.  One of his friends.

The pod opened softly.  A moment passed, and then Michael sat up with a sleepy whoop.

“Yeahhhhhh blaze of glory, baby!”

He lazily pumped his fist in the air, then froze as he caught sight of Jeremy.  Confusion furrowed his brow.

“…Lil’ J?”  

Jeremy opened his mouth, but there didn’t seem to be any words coming, so he closed it again.  The confusion on Michael’s face was morphing into worry.  He jumped out of his pod and crossed the room to Jeremy’s without so much as bothering to put on clothes.

“Fuck, man, I didn’t even hear you go down — what happened?”

“Um…”  Jeremy blinked, the room swimming in front of him.  Words felt alien.  “I don’t… probably a guard, it was… chest shot…”

Alone.  His blood growing cold under him on the filthy ground.  Sticky, gritty.  Pain wrenching through his chest like rude hands, grabbing and twisting without his consent.  His breath ragged, agonized, and fading… with no one to hear it.

Michael’s hand found on his shoulder, squeezing so hard it almost hurt, and yet just barely hard enough to pull him back to the present.  

“Hey hey hey, eyes up, buddy.  Don’t think about that right now, okay?”

Jeremy lifted his gaze, trying to focus on Michael’s face.  Michael was giving him a hopeful smile.  

“You did good, yeah?  Heist’s going great!  Congrats on your first wet job, lil’ J!”

Praise.  Safety.  Gentle hands on his body.  Jeremy took a breath, trying to quiet his racing heart.  This felt right.  This was… how it was supposed to go.  Death was no big deal, not to a Fake.  

No big deal…

“Jeremy, if I step away for just a second, are you gonna be all right?”

“I… yeah.”  Jeremy nodded.  “Yeah, go ahead.”

“You sure?”

“Go on, I’m good.”

“It’s just… you’re shaking.”

Jeremy’s gaze dropped to his hands.  It was odd to see them quivering in his lap.

“…O-oh.”

Michael squeezed his shoulder again.  “Sit tight, Jer, I promise I’ll be right back.  Just wanna give the crew a quick call and let them know I’m with you.”

The crew.  Jeremy was nodding before he realized it.  God, he wanted them all here right now. “S’okay, go tell them.”

Michael’s hand slipped away from him.  Immediately, the lack of contact ached.  Jeremy hugged his knees to his chest and watched Michael cross the room.  Michael picked something up off a shelf – the small familiar shape of a com – and slipped it in his ear.

“Hey, this is ghost Mogar.”  Michael was already crossing the room back to Jeremy as he spoke.  “Status?”

Gunfire hammered through the com, staticky and horrible.  Jeremy flinched at the sound.  Michael’s hand was back on his shoulder, a merciful comfort.

 _“Yeahhhhhh, that’s it!”_   Geoff bellowed a laugh before responding.   _“Mogar, your death was not in vain, I’m loose with the goods!”_

_“This is Vagabond, you’re all covered.  We’re taking some heat, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.  Rimmy Tim, Golden Boy, you guys ready to roll?”_

Michael cleared his throat.  “Hey, uh, about that… Rimmy went down a little while ago, guys.  We didn’t hear it.”

The white noise of gunfire continued, but an aching silence stretched between the voices.  Jeremy’s shaking hand fumbled for Michael’s, covering it and squeezing.

Geoff’s voice was hard.   _“Are you with him?”_

“Yeah.”

_“Is he okay?”_

“He’s —“  Michael gave Jeremy a guilty look.  “Uh — he’s doing all right.”

A harsh bang thundered through the com, so loud it sounded like the bullet had gone through the earpiece itself.  Jeremy jolted back in the pod, gripping the edges with shaking hands.  Michael’s hand followed him, pressing urgently to his chest.

“Easy, you’re okay–”

 _“Uh– we just lost Vagabond.”_   Gavin sounded shaken.   _“I-I need to clear out!”_

Geoff cursed under his breath.   _“Go, Golden Boy, get to the plane.  Time for the Fake AH Crew to disappear.”_

“Good luck, guys.  Mogar out.”  Michael clicked off the com and set it down, now dedicating both hands to Jeremy’s shaking body.  “Okay, see?  Everyone’s fine, everyone knows you’re fine.  It’s gonna be okay.”

Jeremy’s mouth felt dry.  “R-Ryan–”

“Is coming right back here.  He’s fine too.”

Fuck.  Of course.  Of course.  Jeremy pressed a hand over his eyes, struggling to take deep breaths.  Just because a stranger had gunned Ryan down with cold bullets didn’t mean he was…

The words “we lost Vagabond” wouldn’t stop echoing in Jeremy’s head.  

A pod hissed.  Jeremy’s gaze snapped up as it slid open.  The hyperventilating had become an absence of breath altogether, stifled by the sudden soul-crushing need to have more of his chosen family around him.

Ryan sat up in his pod, his gaze already locking on Jeremy.  Without a word, he climbed out and crossed the room in three long strides before leaning into the pod and pulling Jeremy into a crushing hug.

“I’m here.”  Ryan murmured the words into Jeremy’s shoulder, face buried.  “You’re okay.  I’m here.”

Gingerly, Jeremy’s arms lifted to return the hug.  His heartbeat was beginning to settle, thump by thump.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into Ryan’s shoulder.  “I swear I wasn’t playing hero, I just… got dumb.  I’ll try not to die so fuckin’ quick next time.”

Ryan didn’t speak for a moment.  When he did, his voice was lower.  Dangerous.  

“…Who got you?”

“Ryan.”  Michael’s voice was a warning.  “Not now.”

Jeremy let out a weak snort of laughter into Ryan’s shoulder.  “I-if I knew who it fuckin’ was, I’d let you dismember them any way you wanted, Ryan.”

“Thanks, Jer.  That means a lot.”

Jeremy hugged him tighter.  “F-fuck, I’m glad you got back here so quickly.  Not that I’m glad you got shot down.  Watch your fuckin’ six next time, okay?”

Ryan squeezed back, but didn’t respond.  Somehow, Jeremy could feel the intensity of Michael’s gaze behind him.

“Ryan, you’d better tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“I know exactly what you did.  Don’t let him hear it on the fuckin’ news.  Tell him now.”

Jeremy frowned and finally pulled back from Ryan, looking him in the eye.  “Tell me what?”

Ryan sighed.  For a moment, he looked almost embarrassed.  “…No one shot me down.”  He lifted his hand, held in the shape of a gun, and pressed the “barrel” against the side of his head.  “You sounded like you needed someone else here.  So I took the quick way back.”

…Oh.  Jeremy blinked.  That’s why the shot had been so loud.  It must have gone off inches from the mic.

He could almost picture the news coverage.  The blurry, shaking cell phone footage from some beach-goer with more phone memory than survival instinct, trying to keep the camera focused on the muzzle flashes from the Vagabond’s gun.  But then the Vagabond paused, almost as though listening to something, ignoring the gunfire.  A second later he pressed his own gun to the side of his head and–

Michael was right, that would be all over the news if someone saw it.

“Don’t blame yourself.”  Ryan was talking, filling the silence.  “We’ve done it before.  I’m used to it.  Didn’t feel a thing.”

“I’m glad,” Jeremy blurted.  He let out a long breath and yanked Ryan back into a hug, so suddenly he grunted.  His words were muffled by Ryan’s shoulder.  “I-I’m glad it was you.  Your own gun.  Not a stranger’s.  I’m glad it was… your choice.”

Michael’s hand found Jeremy’s shoulder, squeezing.  “Hey, buddy, you feeling ready to climb out of there and get some clothes on?”

Jeremy let out a long breath and nodded before pulling back from Ryan.  “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Climbing out of the pod was slightly surreal, but Jeremy was relieved to discover that his legs supported him.  From the way Ryan hovered next to him, he clearly wasn’t the only one with concerns.  Michael must have stepped away at some point, because he was clothed now, and holding out more stacks of clothes for Jeremy and Ryan.  Jeremy took his gratefully, the soft fabric a familiar and comforting texture in his hands.

Now that the horrible twisting sickness was leaving his belly, a deep embarrassment seeped in to replace it.  Jeremy’s cheeks were starting to heat uncomfortably as he stepped into his pants.  Michael had been shot down just like he had, but Michael woke up with a cheer.  Not a shaking gasp, nauseous and almost sobbing.  Michael was able to climb right out of his pod, not paralyzed by an unplacable sense of violation.  Michael handled his death like it was a normal part of life.  Like he’d done it a million times before.

By the time Jeremy had finished getting dressed, his gaze was on the floor, too heavy to lift.  He shuffled his bare feet.

“Uh.  Sorry I’m being a huge princess.  I-I thought I was ready for this shit, but I…  I guess I wasn’t.”

“Hey.”  Michael’s voice was sharp.  “Shut the fuck up, you’re doing great.”

Jeremy rubbed a hand over his eyes.  “I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

“Everyone’s a fuckin’ mess their first time.”

“This isn’t my first–”

“It’s different.”  Ryan’s voice was stern.  “When the crew kills you, we take care of you, but cops and gangs won’t bother.  It’s not the same thing.”

“Seriously, you have no fuckin’ idea how well you’re handling this,” Michael added.

Jeremy finally lifted his gaze.  He flinched back from the finger that Michael was jabbing in his face.

“So don’t talk shit about my boy Jeremy, you got it?”

Jeremy nodded.  “G-gotcha, Michael.”

The door to the respawn room hissed.  As it slid open, Jeremy’s heart lifted.  Jack, Geoff, and Gavin all rushed into the room before the door was finished moving.  They crowded around him, but held back as though not wanting to overwhelm him.

“Jeremy!  Fuck, it’s good to see you standing!”

“You all right, lad?”

“Honey, we’re so sorry you had to wake up alone!”

Jeremy took the first move, pulling Geoff into a hug and then moving around the group.  With each tight squeeze of arms around his chest, each familiar body pressed against his, the sense of safety spread.

It felt complete.  Everyone was back.  

“I’m okay, guys.”  For the first time, he felt like he really meant the words.  “I’m okay.  I’m okay now…”

With his face buried in Jack’s hair, Jeremy didn’t see it when Ryan tugged on Michael’s shirt sleeve.  He didn’t hear Ryan and Michael slip away from the group, a few paces back so Ryan could murmur without being overheard.

“He’s doing well.  Really well.”

Michael nodded, still watching the group hug.  “Christ, I’m fuckin’ glad we had him play Murder first.  I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure it would help.”

“Me neither.  When I first died on a heist, it took you guys an hour to pry me out of my pod.”

“Yeah.  I remember.”

“Fucked me up for days.”  Ryan finally looked away from Jeremy, giving Michael a curious look.  “…I wasn’t there for yours.  What was it like?”

Michael didn’t meet his eye.  “Worse than yours.”

Ryan didn’t pry.  He leaned back against an open clone pod and let out a long, relieved sigh.  “…Mogar?  I think we kept him safe.”

Michael threw a light punch against Ryan’s arm.  “Can’t ask for a better heist than that.”


End file.
